Ray's Rant: Teacher's note tells mummies what not to wear

Has a British school principal overreached in sending a note home to mummies asking them to consider not wearing pyjamas while dropping off their children?

Last week Kate Chisholm, primary school principal at Skerne Park Academy, Darlington, wrote: "I have noticed there has been an increasing tendency for parents to escort children to and from school while still wearing their pyjamas and, on occasion, even slippers.

I'm sure many of us might sympathise with the mummies who have to drag themselves out of bed and prep the kids for school while it's dark, cold, and possibly raining or snowing.

Would they have anytime left to make themselves up to look as though they just came fresh from the red carpet?

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Pyjamas, in this sense have just become a shared code for the mummies, a secret shorthand of clothes choices to express their busy lives. It says: "I haven't even got time for myself".

The message in Perth is a bit different. Our mummies wear active wear – lycra tops, leggings and joggers. This is also a reflection of our good weather and acknowledgement of Australia's self-perpetuating myth of a sporting nation.

This is a different shorthand message. It says: "I've got the kids organised, now I'm off for yoga, pilates or a personal training session with the hunky Sven because I have a very positive body image. Afterwards, I'm having coffee and cake with the girls".

Of course, men also have their dress codes. Hi vis is everywhere these days – to the point where it has become In-vis.

Hi vis is the modern interpretation of blue collar. It says: "I actually work for a living and often get my hands dirty. I love a beer, my footy and, did I say I love my beer".

In the office, the polo shirt has become a de facto uniform. It says: "I'm smart, but casual". It also says: "I'm branded" as it's a great opportunity for the company to place its logo.

I'm in two minds about the polo shirt. It's an unforgiving wardrobe item if your silhouette is anything but flat. They also fade and lose their shape fairly quickly.

I happen to think that the only person who looks really good in a polo shirt is an Argentine polo player – or maybe a golfer.

The only difference is that the man from Buenos Aires or the Argentine pampas is likely to have been born into landed wealth and already has entrée to the international jet set.

The golfer may have been brought up on a middle class housing estate.

In either of these cases, however, the message of the polo shirt is similar: I've got the time and the money to indulge in games in between parties in exotic locations".

I once went to a polo match in Oxford. That very nearly ended up with me going back to Buenos Aires with the best girlfriend of the Argentinian president. I wasn't wearing a polo shirt, but was wearing a very sharp, bespoke suit with a code of its own.

In a business sense, the suit says: "I am a ruthless, cut-throat corporate type who is hell-bent on reaching the top, regardless of how many victims or enemies I have to scramble over."

If you come from a workplace influenced by Silicon Valley and wear jeans and t-shirts, your message is "I'm cool, unconventional, creative and drink a lot of caffeine-based energy drinks".

Of course there are plenty of other uniforms in popular culture, but I'd like to highlight one that might be the most dangerous.

Anyone wearing a bowls uniform, including hat, says two things: in a car it's "watch me very carefully, I could do anything" or outside of a car it's "I'm not paying more than $1.50 for a pony of beer and I'm going to sit on it all afternoon".

Uniforms, we're all wearing them in one form or another. It's just a visual way of saying: I belong . . . or, I want to.